


One Last Breath

by Riennynn



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Temporary Character Death - Jack Harkness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-05 23:00:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1835368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riennynn/pseuds/Riennynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yet another homicidal alien has Jack and Ianto trapped in an airtight storage locker.  Jack has a plan to make sure they get rescued alive, but Ianto isn't going to like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heavy Breathing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [parapraxis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/parapraxis/gifts).



> Multiple canon-typical deaths for Jack. Angst and a description of asphyxiation.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do they manage to get themselves into these situations? Jack + Ianto + enclosed space usually ends far more pleasantly.

Rain.  Perpetual Welsh rain pounding on the pavement outside, on the roof, on the walls of the storage locker they had managed to lock themselves into.  Slithering sounds outside, from the alien they had only narrowly escaped four alleys, one chainlink fence, two rounds of bullets, and one of Jack’s previously untorn trouser legs ago.

Inside, silence broken only by muffled panting for breath, in the wrong context for their usual activities.  Jack pressed his face against Ianto’s shoulder, holding back the sounds of pain he desperately wanted to voice.

The alien prowled outside, twin tails slapping against the door as it attempted to find a way past the three-inch steel.  Venom and blood wended their way down Jack’s thigh, and he spared a thought for the lecture he was going to receive from Ianto on yet another perfectly good pair of trousers ruined on the job.  Just as he thought it, a wry whisper hissed its way into his ear.

“Could you have dodged that strike?:

Jack gritted his teeth in what might have passed for a grin.  The locker was thankfully pitch black, so he didn’t bother schooling his expression.  “That’s a Varingian bounty hunter.  Their tail spikes secrete a natural toxin that’s fatal to most species, even in the fifty-first century.  One strike and even Owen wouldn’t be able to manufacture the antivenom in time.”

He could hear Ianto’s frown as the arms around him tightened.  A quiet blip and whir as the other man unclipped one of Tosh’s portable scanners from his belt, illuminating the inside of the locker with a faint violet glow.  “Jack…”  Disapproval mixed with faint horror, though he covered it well.

Jack caught Ianto’s hand as it reached for his left leg.  “Don’t.  It’s a contact organic toxin.  Will break itself down in half an hour, but until then, don’t touch.”  He squeezed the suddenly still fingers and attempted a smile that was probably more grimace than mirth.  “At least the bastard made it quick.”

Jack’s face was paling and Ianto gripped his shoulders in alarm.  “Jack?  How long do you have?”

“Normally it takes about twenty to reach the victim’s heart, but I think it caught...my femoral.”  Easing the folds of his coat away from his leg, the dark stain on the ripped fabric and the growing puddle around his foot were all the confirmation needed.  “We’ll be safe enough in here,” he muttered, sliding down the wall in a (controlled!) collapse, “Just don’t open that door until the rest of the team gets here.”  

The interior of the locker was graying out on the edges, and he focused on Ianto’s face as it rolled in.  “I’ll be right back.”  

The back of Jack’s head thudded dully against the steel door, and Ianto bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.  Ignoring the sticky mess that continued to sluggishly seep from Jack’s veins, he settled against the opposite wall and went to work with the scanner.


	2. Why Do the Maths Never Lie?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto has been busy with that scanner. The results are not good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Calculation of oxygen use here http://members.shaw.ca/tfrisen/how_much_oxygen_for_a_person.htm

  
The locker was precisely two paces across, just far enough away that Ianto could avoid contact with Jack’s venom-soaked trouser leg once he’d lifted his head onto his lap. In the fifteen minutes that had passed since Jack’s latest death - twenty five since the Varingian’s sting - he had determined that all the walls were three-inch steel, he couldn’t get a clear signal on either of their cell phones or the emergency transponder sewn into Jack’s greatcoat lining, and most disturbingly, the locker was completely sealed.

That last was wonderful for keeping the alien out, but it also meant that they were well and truly stuck inside until it went away. Judging by the staccato beat against the door, that wasn’t likely to happen any time soon. He had just checked the results on a rather grim set of calculations (for the third time), when Jack’s back arched and he gulped in a huge lungful of air. Ianto pressed one palm against a warm cheek (he refused to think of the times Jack remained dead so long that his skin cooled) and set the scanner on his knee to press the other against Jack’s chest.

“How long?”

“Thirty one minutes since you were stung.” If Jack noticed that Ianto didn’t report how long it took him to revive, he didn’t comment on it.

Probing the flesh under the torn fabric, Jack rubbed his fingers together and seemed satisfied with the result. “Inactive at least.” Slowly pushing himself upwards, he turned sideways, noting that Ianto had tucked his coat out of the way of the now-tacky bloodstain on the floor. “What’s our status?”

The violet glow from the scanner highlighted Ianto’s raised eyebrow. “Marvelous, sir. We’re trapped in a small box with an homicidal alien waiting at the door. I can’t get a signal through to the Hub - yes Jack, I tried all three transponders in your coat - the database says Varingians don’t leave once they’ve located their targets, and,” he took a shallow breath, “if it takes as long as I think it will for them to track us down, we’ll be out of air by the time they arrive.”

Jack took half a minute to digest the proclamation of doom. “You’re sure?”

“One standard human needs approximately two thirds of a kilo of oxygen per day. That’s approximately two hours per cubic meter of air. Assuming we’ve got about four cubic meters of air in here and two of us, that’s four hours. And I didn’t take into account carbon dioxide buildup.”

“Well..”

“We’re two hours out of Cardiff already, Jack. They won’t miss us for at least another hour. Tosh is a genius at tracking, but we must have run a mile or two away from the SUV when we were chasing it, and for whatever reason these walls are blocking signal. Unless that alien decides to bugger off or if you’ve got a really big gun stashed in your pocket, we’re out of luck.” Ianto’s glare told Jack he better not try the usual smirk and joke about big guns.

Hands clenched into fists, worrying the fine herringbone wool of his own trouser legs. “This rather looks like a no-win scenario.”

Jack shut his mouth abruptly. He felt around in his pockets, gripping and discarding various bits and bobs that wouldn’t help them. Multitool, portable force field, and two protein bars were dropped onto the ground with little ceremony. The lube and condoms from their private stash in his inner pocket wouldn’t be useful either. His hand landed on a short cylinder, left over from some ad hoc repairs, and a plan started to take shape.

Carefully, he gathered an unresisting Ianto into his arms. It wasn’t the first declaration of impending doom, but the simplicity of their situation made it worse. Jack pressed a kiss to Ianto’s brow, inhaling deeply of the scent of soap and laundry detergent and ironing starch.

He had a plan. Ianto wasn’t going to like it at all.

“Stand up for a minute?”

The scanner had gone back into hibernation while they cuddled, and the sound of cloth rustling against the walls was louder than it should have been. He shrugged out of the greatcoat, folding it with care, and proferring it in the only direction Ianto could be standing.

“Hold onto this.”

“Jack?” The scanner’s display came back to life. Ianto was frowning deeply. “You’ve a plan, haven’t you? And I’m not going to like it at all.” He clutched the coat protectively against his chest. It was a sign of how much Ianto was struggling to maintain composure that he wasn’t fussing with the drape of the fabric or checking it for damage.

Jack held up the item he’d retrieved from his pocket.

“What the hell are we supposed to do with duct tape, Jack? The door is already sealed as tight as it gets.”

Jack pulled Ianto down to sit across from him again. “No, you won’t like this, but it’s the only way.”

“The only way what? Unless that’s the exploding tape we recovered last month, I don’t see what you plan on doing with it.”

“Think about it. There’s only enough air for four hours with two people. Halve the number of people, double the air. Eight hours is plenty for Toshiko to find us.” He focused on tearing off a long strip and started binding his own ankles. If he talked through this, he might not lose his own nerve. Ianto wasn’t going to respond to this well at all, and he needed to stay calm in the face of it. Jack tore off two smaller strips and stuck them temporarily to the wall beside him before handing over the roll.

“Jack.” So much into one word, into the name that wasn’t really even his name. He forced himself to smile wanly.

“Ianto. If I stay dead for those eight hours, I won’t use your air.”

Ianto still hadn’t caught on. Jack wondered if that was partially deliberate. “What are you going to do, keep shooting yourself? I’d rather we just breathed as little as possible and both waited.”

“With the fuss you make over the drycleaning bill, no.” The glare he received for his attempt at levity wasn’t reassuring. “Think about it. Aside from the mess, that’s hardly the most efficient method. Plus I’ll use air every time I revive because I can’t normally stop myself from breathing.”

The duct tape hit the ground. “Oh no. You can’t be suggesting… Jack, that’s awful!”

“Yeah, it really is. But you said it yourself, we’re out of options.”


	3. Bound But Not Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not going to be pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Description of asphyxiation. Skip this chapter if needed.

Ianto secured the tape around Jack’s wrists at the small of his back and helped him turn back over. “Are you sure?” he asked again.

“In front of me and I might hurt you, Yan.”

“That’s not what I was asking.”

Jack rolled onto his side and rested his head on Ianto’s knee. The masks fell away for a moment then, the full horror of what they were - what he was - about to do alive in his eyes before he blinked and stifled the fear.

“I will come back. You won’t.” He rubbed his cheek against Ianto’s leg. “Just, if you can bear it, Yan?”

“What, Jack?”

“Leave my eyes uncovered. If I can see you, it won’t be as bad.”

Ianto leaned down and gave Jack a lingering kiss. “All right. Are you ready?”

Jack scooted back as far as he could and tried to smile reassuringly. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

The tape stretched cold across his mouth, warm when Ianto smoothed his fingers over it. Ianto paused with the last piece, biting his lip.

“Jack, I…” He breathed out, squaring his shoulders and trying for a last bit of humor instead. “Never did think I could shut you up.”

Jack snorted and nodded, laying his head back against the ground. Ianto kissed his forehead, waited for his exhale, then the tape sealed his nose completely.

He tried to stay calm, tried not to panic when the next breath clearly wouldn’t come. Above him, Ianto held his shoulders down, fighting back every instinct that screamed the wrongness of asphyxiating his lover. Jack felt drops of wetness hit his cheeks and knew Ianto was crying silently, wished he could comfort him.

The iron bands around his chest tightened, tightened, tightened. His vision shrank. Jack almost wished he’d had Ianto cover his ears too, so he wouldn’t have to hear the whispered apologies as his face grew red then purple.

At long last, nothing.


	4. All Tied Up and Nowhere To Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto has quite a wait. And he's pretty sure he never wants to see duct tape ever again.
> 
> Picks up where Chapter Three leaves off

As Jack's struggles ceased, Ianto raised shaking hands from his Captain's shoulders and pressed the trembling fingers to his own lips.  The horror of his actions set in, and in some distant calm part of his brain he wondered how he could be so nonchalantly straddling Jack's body after what he'd done.

He'd once vowed to watch Jack suffer and die.  Ianto's brain hissed that he'd finally gotten a chance to see his wish come true.  Karma was swinging around, and it wasn't pulling any punches.

One deep, unsteady breath.  He reminded himself sternly that crying would only waste the precious oxygen inside the unit, that Jack would panic less when he came back if Ianto himself was calm.

When he came back.  Shit.

Ianto looked back down.  Jack's face was still suffused with blotches of maroon and purple, the capillaries burst in his half-open eyes.  He had managed to contort his body into a backwards arch as his instincts fought with conscious intentions.  Dispassionately, Ianto noted that Jack had wet himself.   _Of course, loss of bodily function control after death,_ the dry narrative in his head continued.   _Thankfully when he reset after the first death tonight, his stomach cleared itself.  Nothing to vomit up and potentially pull the tape off his mouth._

Carefully straightening, he arranged Jack's body lying flat as possible.  He pillowed his lover's head on the folded greatcoat, smoothed strands of hair off his forehead, and checked the seal on the tape.  Sliding further up until he straddled Jack's chest, he planted his weight firmly over Jack's sternum.

Two and a half agonizing minutes later, he felt Jack's ribcage trying to expand with the first gasp of life.  Eyes flew open, hazy confused blue shading to panic before Ianto clasped his head in firm hands.

"Jack.  Don't struggle.  Please.  It's me, it's Ianto."  Tears clung to thick lashes as Jack's body convulsed again.  "I'm so sorry Jack, so sorry, please forgive me -"

The body beneath him was still again.

  _-Two hours later-_

 Ianto didn't think he would ever be able to tolerate the sight of duct tape again.  Mocking silver tape, stretched tight across Jack's mouth and sealing his nose.  Tape whose adhesive had failed an hour into their ordeal, letting Jack gasp in a huge breath.  So much panic on his face when it happened.  

"Put it back," he'd gasped, "Put it back, Ianto!"  He wanted so badly to give him fifteen minutes, ten minutes, five minutes of life.  Enough time so that Ianto didn't feel so damn  _alone_ with Jack's corpse.

"It's ok," Jack murmured with raw lips, vocal cords parched dry.  He accepted Ianto's kiss before settling back against the coat.  "You have to put it back.

Half-blind with tears of his own, he'd complied.

An hour after that, Ianto wondered if this was a special sort of hell for those who almost let a Cyberman lose on the world, who had lied to their boss and coworkers, who had betrayed Jack Harkness.  The length of time between revivals was slowly lengthening, giving him longer to contemplate his own sins in the silence between Jack's frantic attempts to breathe.

The past two times, he had locked numb fingers around Jack's throat, attempting to speed the trip back to oblivion.

 _Murderer_ his brain muttered.  Ianto couldn't disagree.


	5. Set Me Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How many hours has Ianto been alone with his demons?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised only 5 chapters, but this one begged to be written and I couldn't sneak rescue in just yet!

_-Two hours and forty-three minutes in-_

The air felt tight around him, too heavy and close to breathe.  

Jack's head had dropped ( _again_ ) onto the wool coat ( _the ground_ ), heels drumming ineffectually against the metal wall just moments before.  This time, Ianto had been unable to gentle his lover's lifeless body after the fact ( _murderer_ ), scrambling as far away as possible, scooting up to the far wall ( _his feet_ ).  He'd felt the frantic thrum of Jack's pulse below his hands stutter and fail ( _murderer_ ) and almost swore he'd seen relief in Jack's bloodshot eyes.

He couldn't be running out of oxygen already, could he?  He scrabbled at the scanner, hands shaking so much that he almost dropped it twice before the screen lit up.  Two hours and forty-five minutes after they'd sealed that door.  The team might just now be starting to miss them, to worry when their calls weren't answered and the tracking beacon the SUV showed it stationary.  Still acceptable levels of oxygen, carbon dioxide buildup within tolerable limits...why did it feel like there was an elephant on his chest?  

He bobbled the scanner again, knocking his elbow on Jack's boot.  A hysterical laugh bubbled its way up and he abandoned the scanner in favor of clapping a hand over his mouth.  Here he was worried about running out of air, and inches away Jack's corpse lay, damning evidence of suffocation.

"Oh God."  Ianto barely recognized his voice, gone high-pitched with barely suppressed panic.  "What have I done?"

_-Three hours and fifteen minutes-_

Ianto hadn't moved from the corner he'd wedged himself into, knees tucked up to his chest, tie loosened and shirt buttons torn open without notice.  Tears ran down his cheeks, soaking into the fine wool of his trouser legs, the grey herringbone smeared with grime from their alleyway chase and Jack's blood.  The alien's steady pounding on the walls had dropped into the background, the soundtrack for Ianto's own personal hell.  The locker stank of piss and sweat and the metallic tang of drying blood, but all he could smell was Jack's spicy musk.  Pheromones apparently lingered, taunting him with their presence, soothing him in the face of terror.

If this was payback for Lisa, Ianto was ready to admit defeat.  He deserved every moment of this torture, but why did Jack have to suffer?  He glanced towards their guns abandoned on the floor, forcing himself to consider the option.  It wasn't really an option though, was it?  Jack would find a way to drag him back, find another glove and damn him to eternity like Owen ( _misguided affection_ ).  

Beside him, Jack's thigh jumped.  Ianto froze, unable to move as Jack's thrashing intensified.  Watched the way he violently threw himself over, eyes wild in the violet glow of the scanner screen.  Watched as his corner of the locker rolled into Jack's view and he tried to drag himself over.  Watched him struggle against the tape on his mouth and nose, scraping his face against the concrete below.  Watched the light go out of his eyes again.

- _Three hours and thirty-eight minutes_ -

He couldn't stand it any more.  

Ianto cradled Jack's body to him, heedless of the mess on the floor around them.  There had to be another way, he silently argued with the countdown on the scanner display.  He couldn't watch Jack die at his hands again, not tonight.  Another night, another mission, that was still on the table, but he could feel something inside straining against the walls of his mind.  

Possibly his sanity, if it hadn't deserted him before?

Reaching forward, he pulled the tape away from his lover's face, wincing as the skin came away in strips with it, tearing gashes in Jack's pale lips and the tip of his tongue where it had pressed against the silver strip.  Freed Jack's hands and feet, and pillowed his head beside Jack's on the greatcoat that smelled like safety and adventure and home.

_-Four hours and two minutes-_

Interminable waiting it seemed, even with his internal clock ticking away the minutes and seconds.  Waiting for color to return to Jack's ashen features, he'd picked off as much of the remaining bits of adhesive as he could.  Jack's skin knitted itself back together before his eyes, blood vessels sealing off in the scrapes he'd inflicted from the floor.  He idly wondered if the bitten lips were a remnant of his mortal days.

Instead of the normal deep gasp, Jack returned to life with a sigh.  "Shh," Ianto crooned, "I've got you."

"Ianto."  Not a question, a statement of fact.  "We're not safe yet, are we?"

Muffled thuds punctuate the silence broken only by the sound of rain.  "Nope."  A single word, and Ianto prided himself that his voice didn't shake.

Anger clouded Jack's eyes then, muted by understanding.  "You were supposed to-"

Ianto rolled them bodily over until he was lying on top of the other man, pressing their foreheads together until all he could see in the dim light were dilated pupils.  He focused on the thin corona of blue, marvelling as the burst capillaries in the whites repaired themselves.  "I.  Can't."

Arms came up to encircle him, their tenderness belied by the coldness in Jack's tone.  His Captain's voice, the team called it, that could command the wind itself.  Not one to be lightly disobeyed, but Ianto had done so before.  "Why not?"

Answering question with question, he replied, "What happened that last time, Jack?"

Abruptly, Jack thrust him upwards and off, and Ianto landed heavily against the wall, shoulder protesting the collision.  Jack turned away, arms hugging himself tightly.

"Jack?"

Something murmured into the darkness.  He dared to reach out a hand, closing over the back of Jack's braces and forcing him to turn back around. 

"I couldn't see you."

 

 

 


End file.
